Origins
by Purtail
Summary: (Re-uploaded) At the sickening crunch, Hawkfrost felt himself fading - deep, into the black abyss.


**Origins**

**Summary: **At the sickening crunch, Hawkfrost felt himself fading. Deep, into the black abyss.

**Notes: **Because poor Hawkfrost deserves some happiness... :c

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Warriors.

–

**Origins**

The tabby's ice blue eyes widened as teeth sunk into his neck, a small screech escaping his jaws. His limbs flailed wildly, trying desperately to make contact with his half-brother; if he could only move his claws a mouse-length closer, just a bit _closer_...

But he couldn't. The chilling echo of bones snapping was nearly loud enough for the whole forest to hear. Despair filled his soul as his whole body convulsed and his legs gave out from under him. Without so much as a stumble, Hawkfrost fell forward like dead weight.

Or perhaps, he corrected darkly, _eliminated_ weight. He was dead moons ago; when he died this time, he would be gone for good.

His icy eyes didn't close, but he could no longer hear what Brambleclaw and Ivypool were saying. They thought him dead instantly, but his bloodied spirit still clung to whatever life existed in the afterlife.

He wanted to yowl the piece of crowfood's name, to rip off his StarClan-forsaken pelt and feed it to foxes. But he could do nothing but lay there, a noise like rushing water echoing through his ears; a blackness, worse and more powerful than when Brambleclaw had driven that sharp stick through his throat. More eternal than the Dark Forest's darkness.

It dragged at his very soul, his existence – the only thing he had, save for his name – and began to tear at it mercilessly. He felt so very tired; his mind yearned for rest after many moons of preparing for this battle.

He no longer had the strength to even curse the names of those he hated as his eyelids sunk down – and how he desperately wanted to damn Brambleclaw, Firestar, and even his own father into the darkest corners of the Place of No Stars.

The blackness gripped him tighter, much like a warrior's claws squeezing the life from a piece of prey.

And it dawned on Hawkfrost, then, in the deepest parts of his unconscious mind: he had failed.

He had tried his hardest to achieve revenge for his father, for _Tigerstar_, but had failed. He was reduced to this mess by _Brambleclaw_, of all cats.

The Dark Forest had _lost_.

Hawkfrost was dead _for good_.

It was all over.

"Hawk!"

Hawkfrost's heavy eyelids creaked open, revealing nearly transparent blue slits. Someone was calling a name; even in his disoriented state, he recognized that 'Hawk' was a variation of his name. This cat was speaking to him.

"Wake up, mouse-brain!"

Hawkfrost opened his eyes further, barely making out the blurry outline of a smaller black cat pawing at him. He gave a low, instinctive growl as a warning, but the kit didn't retreat. A grave mistake.

The brown warrior struggled to his paws and hissed, "Where am I? Who are you?"

He received a _mrrow _of laughter in response. "Hawk, you really don't remember me?"

"My name is _Hawkfrost_. And if you were of importance, I would have remembered you. What does that tell you?" Though disoriented, Hawkfrost's meow was as smooth as ever.

The other tom wrinkled his nose. "Hawkfrost? What a weird name!"

Hawkfrost's claws slid out and sunk into the ground. "Do you insist on keeping answers from me? It won't end well for you."

Clearly, the smaller cat didn't understand threats, or was too mouse-brained to even recognize one. "You mean you really don't remember me, Hawk? It's me, your brother!" he mewed, crouching down playfully.

"You have bees in your brain," Hawkfrost replied coolly. "I only have a sister."

"Moth! How is she?"

Fluffing up his tail, the larger tabby hissed, "Tell me where I am, you piece of fox-dung!"

"Not until you remember, Hawk!" The black cat insisted.

Unable to contain his anger, Hawkfrost leaped forward, claws outstretched and ready to attack the smaller tom. However, just as he waited for his paws to make contact with the other's pelt, he passed straight through him. Startled, the tabby turned back and glared at the stranger.

The cat's purring ceased, and he meowed softly, "You're dead, Hawk."

"I am aware," Hawkfrost sneered. "But I was able to kill enemies in the Dark Forest with ease." For added effect, he flexed his claws.

Instead of responding to the snarls, the black tom shook his head and said, "My name is Tadpole. You really don't remember me, Hawk?"

Hawkfrost tilted his head, thinking for a moment. The name _did _sound familiar, but he couldn't place it. But what did it matter if he couldn't even hit the little runt?

"Why can't I rip your fur off?" he asked calmly, his tail tip twitching. "Who are you?"

The small black tom padded up to him and laid his tail on his shoulders. "Your mother, Sasha, had three kits: Hawk, Moth, and Tadpole. The three of us played together all the time. We went to find our mother's Twoleg, but the nest filled with water. I never made it out."

Hawkfrost nodded, narrowing his eyes. "I begged Sasha..." he murmured, not really comprehending what he was saying. "I begged her to go back for you, along with Mothwing. I... I didn't want to leave you, Tadpole."

The kit nodded, his mew quiet. "You finally remember."

His claws sliding out, the larger tabby shook his head. "I... I'm sorry." The mew was faint; if he didn't see Tadpole's reaction, he would never believe he said it. Hawkfrost was a Dark Forest warrior, and he did _not _apologize – especially for the fates of long-dead cats that were not his fault!

Tadpole's amber eyes flickered with relief. "Hawk... I've been watching you grow up. Moth, too. I was sad when you died and went to that scary place, but... I'm so happy to see you now!" The smaller tom leaned forward and touched noses with his littermate.

The tabby blinked his eyes closed as a blinding light enveloped him after the initial contact. After what felt like moons, it finally faded; light blue eyes creaked open, and Hawkfrost suppressed a shiver as he looked to Tadpole.

"What happened?" he growled, the confusion making him frightened.

Tadpole simply purred, "Look at yourself."

Puzzled, he gazed down at his paws. To his utter surprise, his body appeared much smaller than he'd remembered. His claws were tiny and powerless, and his jaws probably couldn't break through the tiniest of prey; even his yowls were little more than pathetic mewls.

He was a _kit_.

"I'm... I'm...!" he couldn't process the thought far enough to spit out the words. It was horrifying; _humiliating_...! If Tigerstar or Brokenstar saw him in this state...

_No. _His mind argued. _No, that's over. _

If nothing else, he remembered the Dark Forest, and its inhabitants. He also recalled their great loss against StarClan and the forest cats.

Suppressing a shiver (despite his size, he was still Hawkfrost, and he would _not_ show weakness!), he turned back to Tadpole.

"Why am I a kit!?" he demanded, his whiskers quivering.

The black cat flicked his ears and meowed, "You are as I remember you. My littermate – my _brother_, Hawk. And Moth doesn't believe in StarClan, so she will join us when she dies. We'll all be together again."

Hawkfrost couldn't even nod in response; moons of bitter training and hateful vengeance all at once ripped out of him, leaving his spirit the same frightened kit it always had been underneath. With wide eyes, he crawled towards the other cat and pressed his muzzle against Tadpole's.

All that was 'Hawkfrost' – every betrayal, every clawmark, every lie – had vanished into the darkness whence it came.

Hawk had reverted back to his origins.


End file.
